


The Meaning of Brotherhood

by horatiofrog



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, Family, Found Family, Gen, Internal Retrospective, The meaning of brotherhood, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 19:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15541122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horatiofrog/pseuds/horatiofrog
Summary: Justin looks back at the two "brothers" he has had in his life, and realizes the true meaning of brotherhood between them.





	The Meaning of Brotherhood

Brothers.

Justin had never had one.  He wanted one, and badly, but even as a child he knew he probably wouldn’t get to have one.  His mom had problems.  None of her boyfriends seemed interested in kids – hell, they hadn’t been real interested in _him_ , except to beat on or steal from.

Then he met Bryce.  He was different.  He had stuck up for him.  Made him feel less lonely.  Like there was at least _one_ person in his corner. 

As kids, it was nothing for Justin to spend a lot of time with Bryce and his family.  Sleepovers were common.  The pool house became a home away from home.  Justin was surprised at first when they gave him things:  new shoes for basketball, new clothes for a dance, helped his mom when she was facing jail time on possession charges.  _“It’s nothing,”_ Bryce would say when Justin tried to thank him.  _“Anything for a brother, right?”_

And so, the relationship carried forth into high school.  The time spent in the pool house became days-long stretches.  His mom found yet another abusive, controlling boyfriend she swore she couldn’t live without.  He spent more and more time with Bryce and the other jocks, desperately wanting an escape from a bleak reality that waited for him at home.

Bryce had the interesting habit of calling his close friends _“brother.”_   Justin had thought it was a term meant especially for him, but in time came to see it was a personality quirk of the popular boy, nothing more.  It didn’t matter.  He knew when the shit hit the fan, Bryce would turn to him first.

As the years passed, Justin began to notice a change in his best friend.  Girls were more common now at parties and get-togethers.  It was the one area that Justin had an advantage in.  No matter what Bryce tried, girls just naturally seemed to flock to Justin over him.  Justin paid it little mind.  He began a series of relationships:  cheerleaders, other athletes, artsy types.  They never lasted, but they were fun, and the break-ups were usually mutual.  He prided himself on knowing how to treat a lady, and that meant in the bedroom as well.

Bryce often dated girls too.  Pretty, popular, more athletic types like himself.  Justin saw the same pattern with Bryce and his girlfriends:  a shower of expensive gifts, lots of attention, usually a hook-up by the third date.  Justin often teased his friend, good-naturedly, for having to wait so long.

While they were both athletes (Justin a co-captain in basketball, Bryce the captain of the baseball team), it seemed to him that the rules were different whenever Bryce was around.  It didn’t take an idiot to realize that with Bryce’s money and charm came power.  Justin had charm, but not the personality to be a leader.  He was fine with that.  Bryce knew what he was doing, most of the time.  Besides, nothing bad could happen to them, right?

By sophomore year, things changed.  Bryce seemed more interested in bedding as many girls as possible.  After he had slept with them, he often ridiculed them and tore them down _.  “That’s what girls are for, brother,”_ he’d said when Justin had tried to call him out on it in private once.  _“They’re there to support us in whatever ways we need, right?”_

Justin knew something wasn’t right.  But, by then, he was too dependent on Bryce to speak up.  He lived for the camaraderie of his social group, which Bryce naturally commanded.  He depended on Bryce’s charity and willingness to put him up when things got bad at home.  Slowly, Justin began seeing other girls – girls who could get past Bryce’s radar.

He had liked Hannah Baker.  If only Bryce hadn’t fucked it up.

The moment he saw Jessica Davis, he was in love.  Like, stupidly, over-the-moon, head-over-heels _in love_ with her.  She liked him too, and that was a plus.  Soon they were one of the more popular couples at Liberty High.  Everything was perfect.  Secretly, Justin hoped that she would always be with him.

He actually had wanted to marry her.  Even despite his shitty home life and few connections, he wanted to actually propose to her one day.  He had hoped that she would say yes.

Then came the party.  That awful, _awful_ night.  His whole world had come crashing down in one sentence:  _“What’s yours is mine, right, brother?”_

 _Brother._ In that one statement, Bryce proved to be anything but.  The lowest point of Justin’s life, still, was sitting helplessly outside Jess’s bedroom door. He’d had to listen as the woman he loved was being violated against her will and without her consent.

Justin actually wanted to kill Bryce.  As in, fucking _murder_ him.  But he couldn’t.  Bryce was important.  He was idolized.  People depended on him.  He would be missed.

The same couldn’t be said for Justin.   No one would miss him if he disappeared.  No one would care if he died.

Then Hannah Baker killed herself, and everything changed.  Her tapes – her extremely fucking detailed _suicide note_ – told Justin that Jess wasn’t Bryce’s only victim.  She hadn’t been his only conquest.  

He heard it, when the tapes mysteriously ended up in his gym bag one afternoon.  Eleven other people were going to hear it too, along with their sins.  Their “reasons why” Hannah had done this extremely final thing, to herself and to those who loved her.

Bryce had destroyed a life; _ended_ one, even if he’d never picked up a knife or pulled a trigger.  What’s more, he’d had help – ten other people pushing the knife in further, if Hannah was to be believed.

 

* * *

 

Clay Jensen.

The kid had been a nobody.  Some little geek who melded into the woodwork of the lower masses at Liberty High.  Justin remembered him vaguely from middle school.  He was more into indie rock, art and robots than sports and girls.  Secretly, Justin had wondered if the rumors about the kid being gay had been true.

Then Hannah Baker died, and he proved _everyone_ wrong.  It amazed Justin at first, really.  Most underlings at Liberty knew when to take the warnings given by the elite and follow them.  They knew when to save their own ass, even if it meant the assholes of the world could continue doing stupid, cruel, even criminal things.

Clay had been in love with Hannah.  Stupidly, over-the-moon, head-over-heels _in love_ with her.  But unlike Justin, Clay didn’t have a chance to be with Hannah.  He didn’t get to consider marrying the woman _he_ loved.

All he had was her memory.  Her memory, and her tapes – and a powerful desire to see justice done.  Justin saw firsthand just how far the kid was willing to go, those early days of the tapes.  He’d managed to scare the shit out of Marcus Cole, pretentious asshole that _he_ was.  Courtney Crimsen lived in fear of the kid.  Justin had heard that Clay had actually taken the girl out to Hannah’s grave and confronted her over her part on the tapes.

For a nobody, Clay Jensen was proving two things:  he was a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn’t going away anytime soon. 

Justin recalled Bryce one afternoon, after hearing about the kid being suspended for weed:  _“Didn’t think the little shit had it in him.”_   No, to Bryce, Clay was just a thorn in the side; someone starting a bit of trouble over a nothing girl.  He also recalled standing in solidarity with Bryce, forcing Clay to inhale a 40 as they watched.  Back then, it had been part spite for causing trouble, and part guilt over his own crimes. A smaller part, he realized, was shame.  Justin had been ashamed as he continued to back a known rapist because the rapist was literally the only person in the world that would support Justin, even if only financially, and only a little bit.

But Clay proved resourceful.  The now-infamous “Tape 14” changed _everything._ Only the night before Clay’s triumph, the ruse Justin had been so desperate to hold up, the one thing that made all of this worthwhile, was lost.  He’d had to admit to Jessica that not only were Hannah’s tapes true, but that he’d witnessed it and effectually did nothing to stop her from being raped.

Jessica told him, in no uncertain terms that next morning, that she never wanted to see him again.  Later, after being served deposition papers at his home, she got her wish.  Justin was finally thrown out, of his own house, by his mother’s violent boyfriend.  His mother did nothing to help him.  Par for the course.  He took the bastard’s money – the only thing the asshole really cared about – and, after telling Bryce that his days were numbered as a “clean” individual, made his way to the city.

He believed he would never return.  Once again, he hadn’t counted on the determination of a kid with an axe to grind.

When Justin saw Clay again, he was horrified.  Full of shame, anger and self-loathing.  When Clay told him Jessica wanted to see him again, he was not inclined to believe it.  In the end, he’d been part-right.  Jessica hadn’t wanted to see him again…at first.  But Clay was desperate, and the thought of taking down the great Bryce Walker became a shared, common goal.

Even if it meant hiding in Clay’s bedroom for a week.  Even if it meant detoxing off the heroin addiction he’d picked up as a way to forget.  Even if it meant passing out in front of an angry Jessica and a stupefied Bryce in the middle of the Liberty High cafeteria.

Even if it meant going to jail, if it meant he could take Bryce with him.

 

* * *

 

During the two weeks he spent at the Jensen's, Justin learned a lot.  Clay was, in fact, a geek.  He was uptight, he was over-analytical, and he really _did_ need to get laid.  The kid was a giant ball of stress wound so tight it was a wonder he didn’t explode.

Or maybe he had.  Justin was certain he’d head Clay talking to himself a few times, as if talking to another person.  The night he told him about Chloe Rice testifying for the Bakers, he was sure Clay was about to have a mental breakdown.  A part of Justin began to wonder if Clay hadn’t made a good choice in dating Skye Miller.  The girl had had some serious issues.  For a moment, it looked like Clay did too.

He learned that Clay's parents were professionals – mom a lawyer, dad a college professor – and that they actually _cared_ about Clay.  And, oddly enough, he found they cared about him too.  The Jensen's could have thrown Justin out when they found him, hiding in Clay’s room.  They had good reason to once they found out about the heroin.  Even after all that, they welcomed him back with open, if a little guarded, arms.

It had been something Mrs. Jensen had said, the night they found out he was an addict:  _"_ _I care about keeping the kids safe, even though they’re both fighting us."_

 _Kids._   Sure, Clay was their son, but she’d included him in the sentiment as well.  He remembered Mr. Jensen’s concerns the night before that:  _"_ _Our son did drugs, we didn’t know.  He hides a homeless boy in his room for a week, we didn’t know.  I mean, what the fuck, Lainie?!"_

It was then he saw where Clay got his determination from.  Clay was definitely his mother’s son.

The Jensen’s also gave him things.  New clothes, for one. _“Just a few things to pick from, Justin,”_ Mrs. Jensen had said as she pulled out the items from a paper bag from one of the better secondhand stores in town.  _“I’m afraid Matt’s things would be too big overall and Clay’s are too small for you, lengthwise.”_   They weren’t anything fancy, but they were better than the same rags he’d worn for five months on the street.  A pair of shoes came with the clothes.  _“Clay’s got tiny feet, but these should work for you,”_ Mr. Jensen had said as he pulled a barely-worn pair of sneakers out of the hall closet. _“Just let me know if they’re too tight.”_

The phone was a surprise.  Mrs. Jensen had surprised him with it the night after they had found him in Clay’s room.  _“It’s an older model, but it still works.  I think Matt had it for about a minute before switching to a Samsung.  Claimed it worked better with the tech he has to use for work.”_

It was different than when Bryce and his parents had given him things.  Bryce’s gifts had been either ostentatious or some item he knew Justin desperately wanted but couldn’t afford to get for himself.  He saw it for what it was, now:  it was Bryce’s way of ingratiating himself to Justin, making him more and more dependent on him for certain things.  It was that kind of false generosity that allowed Bryce to get away with being a despicable human being for so long.  Justin felt ashamed to be a part of that.  It sickened him that he’d ever covered for Bryce in the first place.

With the Jensen’s gifts, he felt…happy.  Maybe even loved.  They didn’t expect him to cover for them, or hide secrets.  The things he received weren’t ridiculously expensive, but though they might be someone's leftovers, they were far from cheap.  He remembered Clay throwing his good plaid blanket across Justin as the younger boy lay on the couch in Clay’s bedroom.  _“Keep it,”_ he’d said, noticing the small pallet of cushions and thin blankets that Justin had laid claim to.  _“There’s more in the linen closet.”_

No one had done that before, not for him.  Justin had grown up in a world where things had a cost, either with money or with favors.  The Jensen’s – especially Clay – only wanted him to put their gifts to good use.  They only expected that he would hold true to his word, whether that meant testifying at the Baker’s trial or committing himself to get his life in order.

Clay surprised him there, too.  Sure, the kid had issues with him – understandable, seeing as how he’d pretty much been the second-biggest reason two girls had their lives ruined – but Clay was willing to accept that Justin had changed.  He wasn’t that ridiculous asshole he’d been before running to the city.

 _"I’m done with doing fucked-up things,"_ Justin remembered telling Clay that night in the Prius.

He remembered listening to Bryce turn on his charm and influence on the stand, and confidently lie about Hannah Baker.  He remembered the awful, awful sight of seeing Clay standing outside of Bryce’s pool house with a loaded gun to his head.  Justin thanked his lucky stars he was able to talk the homicidal and suicidal young man down from that precipice, and was able to back Bryce off with a confidence he’d never felt before.

_“You’re gonna go back inside, pour yourself another glass of whiskey, and forget we were ever here, you got it?!”_

It was the most forthright he’d ever been with Bryce.  That night, a line in the sand had been drawn, and it was Clay Jensen that he’d chosen to take with him, not Bryce.  He was done saving an asshole that didn’t deserve it, and Bryce knew it.

_“You should be more scared than you are, Justin.”_

It was a hollow threat.  Justin knew it.  _“Bryce, I’ve got nothing left to lose.”_ He let that register in the privileged boy’s brain a second before adding, _“That makes_ me _the dangerous one.”_

Bryce had never been at anyone’s mercy before.  He had always known he could talk, charm, or buy his way out of serious trouble.  Justin had seen him do it, on numerous occasions.  It felt nice, seeing this once proud, confidant asshole quake in his shoes a little, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop Justin from going in to court tomorrow and telling the whole world just what an evil human being Bryce Walker really was.

Right then, though, his most important concern was Clay.  Clay Jensen, who had picked him up from the streets and saved him.  Clay Jensen, whom Justin had casually considered _murdering_ in cold blood just six months previous, when there had been some shred of hope that he could cling onto his old life.

The trial testimony went as expected.  So did his subsequent arrest.  The thing that broke his heart was Clay’s concerned pleas and Jess’s cries as he was led away.  They were good people, Clay and Jess.  So was Alex, the kid who’d tried to even the score by attempting to take his own life, and then by joining Clay in his crusade for justice.  Zach, who had come to see the error of his ways and was learning from them – ironically, taking his cues from Clay Jensen as well. Then there were Sheri and Tony – people who had put their own asses on the line for him, and for far more than quashing a hushed rumor or whispered secret.

They were good people, all of them.  Justin knew he didn’t deserve them.

He was surprised to find Mrs. Jensen had taken his case herself.  It made him feel lighter, knowing that there was someone out there who cared about him, and cared about him _for_ himself.  He knew what the answer would have been, in his old life:  Bryce would send his expensive lawyer, and would then place guilt or subtle pressure on him for an act or a ‘favor’ that Justin might not necessarily agree with.  It surprised him more when Clay came to visit him, in juvie, not a week after his arrival.  _“Mom’s working on it, Justin,”_ he remembered him saying.  _“We’re gonna get you out of here.”_

A month later, she had.  Justin’s first surprise was the news that he would be returning to stay at the Jensen house.  _“Is that okay?”_ she’d asked. 

It was more than okay.  Being with the Jensen's…it was like the closest thing to being with a _family_ that he’d ever known.  The social worker spoke with him, and Mrs. Jensen had kept this unreadable look on her face as she explained how emergency custody worked.

It would be okay…for as long as it would last.  He wasn’t looking forward to moving into a group home.

The day of his release happened to be Hannah Baker’s wake.  He dreaded going, but Mrs. Jensen seemed confident that he would be well received.  “ _I don’t think you give yourself enough credit, Justin,”_ she’d said on the drive over to Monet’s.  _“You took an incredible risk, coming forward.  I know Clay appreciates it.  I believe Jessica Davis has said the same.”_

Zach’s greeting had convinced him.

Later, at a table in the back of the coffeeshop, he received the greatest surprise of all.  _“My parents…I mean, me and my parents…wanted to know if you wanted them to adopt you.”_

He studied Clay’s face, waited for the other shoe to drop.  Was this real?

_“Like, adopt you.  Into our family.”_

Justin blinked.  He was convinced now, more than ever, that he was hearing things.  _“You mean, I’d be your brother?”_

Clay’s expression never changed.  _“I’m not familiar with all the technical lingo, but…yeah.”_

The idea was surreal.  The Jensen's – a nice, normal, seemingly average family – wanted _his_ scrawny, broken, fucked-up ass?  Permanently?  Justin could scarcely believe it.  He said as much.

 _“Well, A:  yes, and B: I’m fucked up too, in certain ways, so…”_ The quietly earnest look on Clay’s face sealed the deal.

It was more than Justin had dared hope for.  After all these years, after all the heartache and suffering and sacrifice and fucked-up shit he’d had to go through to get to this point, he _finally_ got the one thing he’d wished for since he’d been a small child – a brother.  Not Bryce Walker’s version of a brother, where you got to be close only if you could prop up his twisted morals and ideals.  Not the kind of brotherhood where silence, secrets, and loyalty could be bought or brokered as needed fit.

Finally, Justin had a _real_ brother.  A brother who was willing to fight for him, even at great personal risk to himself.  A brother who was willing to take him, fucked-up problems and all, and help him be a better person.  A brother who didn’t care that Justin could _do_ very little _for_ him, but was happy to work _with_ him to find a way back to the road to happiness.  A brother who was willing to claim him -- legally, metaphorically or otherwise -- as the very thing Justin had always dreamed of.

Clay Jensen, the brother Justin never realized he could have, if he’d only reached out.   And to think he’d been plotting the older boy’s demise just a few months earlier.  How fucked-up was _that?_

A watery smile burst forth.  _“Yeah.  I’d like to be adopted, yeah.”_

The small, tight smile on Clay’s face betrayed his own fight against showing too much emotion.  _“Cool.”_

Later that night, as he lay on Clay’s couch – a temporary situation, the Jensen's had promised –he thought back to the sad, dirty, bullied little boy that had crossed paths with Bryce Walker in the third grade.  He thought of that little boy, who’d been pathetically thrilled to have even a _friend,_ let alone someone who called him _brother._

If only that little boy knew what would happen.  If only he knew just how much better a _real_ brother than Bryce fucking Walker he could get.


End file.
